Luyện nghe bài hát On Artistic Integrity

I toe the line of
time I place my pen
Upon the page and the words
I but couldn't show 'til then
And to myself I beg the
Why do I masquerade
As one to one and to
else? If I, afraid
Of what the of stating
Openly my might be,
I rant and rhyme and reason
Do I write for or me?
I believe there is merit
In creating for one's
But why place before the
What is left on the shelf?
Though while I write I do not feel
I pen is mine alone,
Even could be misguided
As are many I have
Who swore, poor souls, that they
The key to man's fate,
in convincing some,
But most could tell they did but
On subjects something vague
cannot be unproven, or,
In of content, speak in tongues
Yet know not whom they're for.
No, I am not so;
I do not feel I
Some force divine, but still I
That I never be content
To hold my tongue I would speak
Or my words to suit the hour
Or pinch a blush my cheek
To my joy at love gone sour.
I do not wish to
The faith that place in me
To the way to brighter days,
But sometimes is all I see.
I work for good, I for hope,
No one can question my
But even those who close
Can mistake what I meant.
My fear, I've to realize,
Is mainly that I am wrong,
That my is askew,
That I write and call it song.
Perhaps always question thus,
my merits, thoughts, and deeds
'Tis well, long as I go forth
And see this, my vision, leads.
is she who knows her mind
And speaks it she may not please.
Fortunate the
That hears such thoughts as these.